


With you? Always.

by peanutbutterz



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Ambassador Sokka, Betrothal Necklace (Avatar), Fire Lord Zuko, Fluff, M/M, Oneshot, Romance, Sappy, Sokka just really really loves Zuko, Sokka spends his morning thinking about how beautiful his husband is, Sugary sweet romance, They have been married for a little over a decade, They’re both in their late thirties, they’re married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:02:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24808207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peanutbutterz/pseuds/peanutbutterz
Summary: Sokka is in love with every fiber of Zuko’s being, from his hair to his feet, and he uses his morning to think about these things in detail while his husband sleeps peacefully beside him.I feel like I rely too much on dialogue in my other writing (go check it out if you like this!) so I decided to try writing a scene with as little dialogue as possible. A very sappy, very romantic Sokka arose.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 360





	With you? Always.

Sokka woke up first that morning, eyes cracking slowly open as the first rays of warm sunlight burst through the window overlooking he and Zuko’s shared bed. The heat from the sun, however, was nothing compared to that which radiated off of his sleeping husband. Zuko lay next to him, still preoccupied with his dreams, breathing deep and steady. Sokka didn’t dare shift his gaze lest he miss a single second of it. As gently as he could, so as not to wake Zuko, he turned to face the other, hoping to get a better view of the beautiful man he had married so many years ago. He would stay like this for all eternity if he could, without so much as a single complaint. Zuko looked so at ease when he slept— if only Sokka could grant him that peace always.

Every piece of him was absolutely perfect. Sokka thought himself the luckiest man in the world. His eyes moved across Zuko’s sleeping form, hoping to burn every detail into his memory, into his _soul_. He began from the top, working his way slowly downwards.

Zuko’s hair, long and sleek and a striking pitch black, shone ever-so-slightly in the sun’s light. Sokka remembered fondly when they were boys, and how short his hair had been when they first met in the frigid cold of the South Pole. In the years since, he had watched it grow along with Zuko, who hadn’t cut it even once in all of the time they’d spent together- nearing two decades, now. If Sokka squinted, he could see the beginnings of fine grey hairs at the root of Zuko’s scalp, a sign of their gradual aging that Sokka had first noticed last autumn running his hands delicately through the other’s hair in preparation for a long day of meetings. Zuko had always been generous enough to let him touch it, seeing how enamored he was with its silky length. As they neared their fourties, Sokka could only wish that time would be as kind to him as it was to his husband. 

He moved downwards to Zuko’s face. One of his most attractive features was his eyes— despite being closed at the moment, Sokka could envision them in perfect detail. Zuko’s eyes were warm pools of honey, flecks of gold and copper swirling around and meeting in the center to look at Sokka so lovingly when they kissed. Even when he was angry, he was gorgeous, those same eyes filling with fiery passion for justice, for peace, for his nation, for _Sokka_ . Sokka even loved the scar that completely covered the left side of his husband’s face. For years Zuko thought of himself as unlovable because of it, and rather than seeing a father’s blind hatred, Sokka chose to look at the burn and picture the long nights he had spent with Zuko alone, planting soft kisses on his scar and telling him that he _was_ loved, that _Sokka_ loved him and nothing else in the world had to matter. Nowadays Zuko didn’t try to hide it away, instead displaying it with as much pride as he did the crown of the Fire Lord. No one was more proud of him for it than Sokka. 

Then there was Zuko’s _neck_ , long and muscular, sloping down so perfectly sharply into his shoulders. Just below his Adam’s apple, clasped tightly around the base of Zuko’s neck, was Sokka’s betrothal necklace, which had left its place not even for an instant since Sokka had first tied it so carefully around Zuko’s throat. At the center of a deep blue ribbon sat the mark of his tribe, a symbol not only of his love for Zuko but for the joining of two cultures through it. He stared at it for a moment, hardly believing that fifteen years ago Zuko had said “yes, Sokka, of course I’ll marry you” with tears welling up in those beautiful glittering eyes of his. Sokka could vividly recall how nervous he had been in the weeks leading up to his proposal; how he had sought both his father and Iroh’s blessings months in advance, and how he had the necklace handcrafted as soon as he had received their approvals. Zuko had looked so handsome on the day of their marriage, the touch of blue around his neck shouting out amongst a sea of red and yellow. The rest of the day was a blur, as was to be expected from the wedding ceremony of a Fire Lord with the Avatar in attendance, but it didn’t bother Sokka. He was just ecstatic to finally be promising the rest of his life to his one true love.

Zuko slept topless, allowing his husband to see his body without lavish Fire Lord robes draped over him, submerging him in deep red fabric. Truth be told, regardless of how incredibly attractive Zuko was in his royal garb, Sokka missed seeing him dressed casually at times, yet he would never admit it out loud. He knew firsthand how much pride that he took in being a good ruler, and that entailed never _not_ being Fire Lord Zuko. Sokka fixed his attention on the other man’s back, marked with a few permanent battle scars, some of which he had surely gained in swordfighting duels. Sokka found it hopelessly endearing how much enjoyment Zuko seemed to get from fighting with his dual swords, despite being one of the most powerful fire benders to ever live. It transported him back to their teenage years; Zuko had the same goofy grin on his face when he beat someone now as when he did when he was just seventeen, and Sokka hoped that smile never faded. He was guilty of occasionally losing play fights on purpose just to catch a glimpse of it. 

Zuko’s legs were hidden under the covers, but Sokka was familiar with them. It was those same two legs that gave Zuko an inch of height on Sokka, much to his dismay. It was those same two feet that had carried Zuko around the whole world after Aang and his friends. After _Sokka_ , he had come to understand since that time. He’d never lose the memories of his husband as a bitter, vengeful Fire Nation prince seeking only to destroy him, but they were at the bottom of a mountain of positive experiences and heartwarming stories he would tell his nieces and nephews whenever they visited the Fire Nation and they asked how he knew he loved Uncle Zuko. It didn’t take long for his teenage self to get to know the other boy, who was truly kind and misunderstood at his core. He had fallen instantly in love from their first real conversation, although neither boy confessed to it until years later. 

Sokka’s eyes drifted back upwards, finding Zuko’s face once again. He slowly reached out his hand to grasp his husband’s, squeezing it tightly. He loved this man more than words could ever be used to express. He ran his fingers over the palm of Zuko’s hand, following the natural grooves like a fortune teller. Lost in thought, he stared vacantly at the ceiling, watching the sunbeams ripple like water before being pulled from his trance by the sensation of Zuko gripping his hand. The other man sighed contentedly.

“Good morning, Sokka,” he said tenderly, oblivious to what had occured just minutes prior. “Are you ready to start the day?”

Sokka moved his other hand to brush a strand of hair out of Zuko’s face. He leaned in for a kiss, breaking it only because he needed air to breathe.

“With you?” he asked, heart full. “Always.”


End file.
